


One More Time in Forever

by A_God_A_Vampire_And_Two_Heirs_Of_Durin



Series: Will We Be Stuck Like This Forever? [2]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1950303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_God_A_Vampire_And_Two_Heirs_Of_Durin/pseuds/A_God_A_Vampire_And_Two_Heirs_Of_Durin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how many times you have met someone, in so many different times and places, you can never be prepared for how they might have changed this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Time in Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Since so many of you were very enthusiastic about a sequel, here you go :) I'm not sure that it quite lives up to the first part but I really hope that you all still enjoy it!
> 
> Also, I'm thinking about writing more oneshots about Anders and Mitchell in this verse at different points through history, so if any of you have any requests or prompts about a specific era or situation you'd like to read about them being in, then please tell me :)

He knows that this cannot work; it has never worked for them before, why should it start now? But the moment that that blond head turns and the blue eyes lock onto his, he is gone. There is no force in the world which can stop him from going through with this. They’ve always found each other, drawn together like magnets, and he can’t believe that he doubted their connection for so long.

The blue eyes which are watching him spark with recognition for a second, but the bright light dies soon enough and the blond turns back to his beer. He is not to be so easily dissuaded, and it is not hard to force his way across the floor and sit himself down into the unoccupied chair on the blond’s left side. He motions for the barman to bring him a beer as well, a request which is heeded quickly.

“So, you’re finally here,” the blond speaks, not looking up at him. He notices the accent and tries to place it before his question is already being answered. “I’m on a stopover, flying from Norway back to New Zealand.”

He does not say anything, for even if it is not the fact that he is a vampire that is going to keep them apart, then the distance is going to do a pretty good job at it as well.

“I suppose I should ask how you are, John,” the blond is still speaking, yet is also still intent on staring morosely into his drink.

“It’s Mitchell now,” the vampire responds automatically, “I don’t let anybody call me that anymore.”

The blond smirks and finally looks up at him.

“I never was ‘anybody’ though, was I?” he says, and while Mitchell knows that this is true, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Something here does not sit right with him; something is most definitely not right with the blond or the situation.

“So, what name do you go by now?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer.

“Anders,” replies the blond, “Anders Johnson.”

It’s just the same as always. Mitchell can do that, Anders has nearly always just been Anders.

They’re silent for a few moments, until Mitchell takes a deep breath and nearly chokes. He can’t believe that he didn’t notice it before, the fact that the blond’s scent is so completely different to the rest of the humans around the room. It’s deeper, sweeter in a way and much more layered than he’s ever smelt before, as though there is much more to Anders than meets the eye.

“You alright?” the blond asks, raising an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“Fine,” Mitchell snaps back, regretting it in a moment because he honestly didn’t mean to, but he was taken by complete surprise, and now he is forced to watch as the blond’s expression shuts down and he goes back to staring at his beer.

Finally, he speaks again.

“What took you so long?” he questions, “What took you so bloody long?”

Mitchell bristles a little at such audacity. How dare the blond think that he has waited a long time? _He’s_ waited a century for him.

“I’ve spent years waiting for you,” Anders continues, “Years and years of hoping that you’d turn up to save me. I dreamt about you as a child you know, and I used to imagine that you’d be real and become my friend, and then everything would be alright.”

Mitchell frowns.

“And what makes you think that I haven’t been looking for you?” he says, “I’m sorry for not searching New Zealand first of all.” There’s a bite to his words and the two of them glare at each other for a bit.

Inside, the vampire’s heart sinks. This isn’t how he wanted them to meet, not how he wanted them to act. Maybe he’s been foolish to believe that simple optimism could take them back to how they’d always been before. He is mostly definitely not exactly the same person, the vampirism has done that for him, for nearly a century of killing tends to shift one’s perspective of themselves and the world around them. And Anders does not look as though life has been particularly kind to him either; Mitchell realises that the dullness around his eyes is from a past pain which has never quite faded.

“You and I are two of a kind,” he comments nonchalantly, “We’re both lonely, alone, perhaps in different ways, but it’s still the same feeling.”

Anders snorts.

“How would you know that?” he asks. “You don’t know anything about my life now.”

That comment hits a nerve as Mitchell realises that the other man is right, he doesn’t know about the blond’s current past, nor does he seem to be willing to open up about it.

“I can see it in your eyes,” he says finally, “I may not quite know who you are now, but I still know _you_ , the part that’s always been you.”

Anders makes a disbelieving noise.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this,” he huffs, turning to raise an arm to motion for the barman, but Mitchell sees the action and stops him. “What are you doing? Let me get another beer.”

“I want to have this conversation sober, or as close to it as possible,” Mitchell says firmly.

“Well, maybe _I_ don’t,” Anders retorts, “Now let go of my arm and let me get a drink, unless you want to order me one yourself.”

“No, Anders.”

The blond’s face clouds over for a moment, and then he opens his mouth to speak, but all Mitchell can really catch is the quick slide of words over each other, as though Anders has made them all merge together into one. As the words rush out, that strange scent that he smelt earlier becomes stronger and more powerful. He frowns deeply but doesn’t let go of the other man’s arm.

“I didn’t catch that,” he says, “Stop struggling and just give up on the alcohol.”

Anders doesn’t reply, he’s too busy studying Mitchell with slight fear and a good deal of confusion.

“What the hell are you?” he speaks half to himself, not really expecting Mitchell to hear it.

“What am I?” the vampire frowns, wondering what has given the blond the impression that something is off; he didn’t think that being a vampire was that obvious to humans. “What do you mean by that? And what did you say earlier? Your words didn’t make any sort of sense.”

Anders is still staring at him, and Mitchell suddenly has the urge to take this conversation somewhere more private; somewhere that they can’t be overheard by a number of other patrons of this particular bar. He hopes that Anders has a hotel room somewhere nearby, because he can’t take the blond back to his place since he’s not sure that Annie actually knows the meaning of the word privacy.

“Come on,” he says, “We’re leaving. Where are you staying?”

The blond starts to protest but slides off his seat anyway, leaving the money for his drink on the bar before following Mitchell outside, for no matter how much he may be attempting to remain distant and unattached, there is really no way for him to ignore their bond.

They wind up walking to Anders’ hotel, one of the better establishments this side of town, and one in which Mitchell feels a little out of place while wearing his battered leather jacket. When one of the receptionists seems to go to say something about the way that the vampire is practically leading the blond towards the lifts, Anders speaks in that strange and syrupy way, and although Mitchell cannot make out the words, the woman just nods politely at the two of them, clearly pacified by whatever has been said.

The blond’s room is on the third floor. The lift ride up there is silent, as is the walk to the room and the moment outside while Anders fumbles with his keycard.

Once inside, however, Mitchell takes advantage of the privacy and turns immediately on the other man, demanding to know what on Earth he keeps doing with his voice, and why he wants to know what Mitchell is.

Anders slumps on the sofa and tries to evade the questions at first before loudly declaring:

“Because it didn’t work on you! The whole voice thing is supposed to work on mortals, and there you are, immune to it, so I want to know why!”

“Mortals?” Mitchell frowns, before cracking a smile and grinning widely. “See, that’s your problem, I’m not mortal.”

The look on Anders’ face is nearly comical, before his eyes narrow and he leans in towards Mitchell to study him closely.

“Then what are you?” he asks.

“What are you?” Mitchell counters, “You tell me first, and then I’ll tell you.”

“You won’t believe me,” Anders warns, “No one ever does.”

“Try me,” Mitchell says, “No one ever believes me either.”

“Fine.”

Anders takes a deep breath before fixing the other man with a serious look.

“Bragi, Norse god of poetry.”

Mitchell raises an eyebrow.

“Poetry?” he questions, “Have you ever been particularly good with words?” After recalling the blond’s disastrous attempt to write Mitchell a love poem sometime during the 16th century, he decides that he hasn’t.

“Is that really the bit you’re confused about?” Anders asks dryly.

Mitchell shrugs.

“I’m a vampire,” he reveals casually, “If they exist, why shouldn’t gods?”

Now it’s Anders’ turn to raise an eyebrow.

“A vampire?” he says, “You aren’t going to attempt to bite me, are you?” He’s trying to lighten the mood a little, the fact that both he and Mitchell and are stuck with a supernatural affliction has warmed him up a little and he’s not feeling quite so standoffish, but instead the other man’s face darkens.

“Of course not,” Mitchell says sharply. “I would never do that to you. And anyway, you smell weird.”

“I smell weird?”

“I guess it’s Bragi or something like that,” Mitchell shrugs. “Are you happy now?”

Anders nods.

“It explains why Bragi didn’t work on you,” he explains.

“What was supposed to happen then?”

“You were supposed to do what I said, and I very clearly asked you let go of my hand and order me a drink.”

“Well, isn’t it a good thing that I didn’t get you one,” Mitchell grins, “Otherwise we’d be trying to have this conversation drunk, and I can’t imagine that would have gone well.”

Anders looks at him curiously again before speaking.

“I proved my powers to you, how about you prove this whole vampire thing to me?”

“Anders, I really don’t…”

“I don’t want you to bite me, or anything, but right now, you just look harmless, where’s the fun in that?”

Mitchell’s not sure how much fun being a vampire can be classed as but he humours the blond god anyway, snapping his eyes to black and curling his lips back to accommodate his fangs. To Anders’ credit, he merely flinches.

“It’s still you,” he reasons when Mitchell asks about his reaction, “And I know you.”

Mitchell likes that reason, because suddenly he doesn’t feel that he and Anders are quite so isolated from each other anymore, and decides to do something about how far away from each other they are sitting on the sofa.

They spend the rest of the evening getting to know one another again, mostly in a physical way because after several minutes they relocate to the hotel bedroom and fall into bed together. It’s all so familiar yet new at the same time, a feeling which has always thrilled Mitchell, and if the reactions Anders is having are anything to go by, then he’s feeling the same way.

Mitchell lets himself forget about any concerns he might have had for a while and just loses himself in the sensations.

* * *

And when they’re worn out and cuddled up under the covers in Anders’ hotel room bed, Mitchell wraps his arms around the blond and holds him close.

“I love you,” he whispers softly into the other’s ear, because he’s always known it and he’s missed saying it. He wears his heart on his sleeve and after years of waiting, there is no way that he cannot pour his feelings for Anders out, even if the blond should already know them.

So it’s a surprise when the blond god tenses in his arms and then shuffles a little out of his embrace, burying his head into the pillow as though in embarrassment.

“Anders?” the vampire tries softly, touching the other man’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to roll over.

He’s immediately concerned by the behaviour and the horrific thought that maybe all the time they’ve been fooling around since they’d got back to Anders’ hotel room, the blond has actually had someone waiting for him back home, strikes him. But he knows deep down that he can dismiss that thought because whatever this bond is that they have, it makes other relationships extremely hard; he knows this because he’s tried in the past. Some of them have been more successful than others, but none of them have been Anders.

It takes him a while to realise that the blond god is physically shaking beneath him, and that the other man is quite obviously trying hard not to sob aloud, even if he wants to do so. It’s occurred to Mitchell at some point over the course of the evening that Anders is used to putting up walls and not showing any emotion, so even this display proves to the vampire that the blond trusts him enough to just let go and be himself. As privileged as Mitchell feels by this, he’s also a little heartbroken that something has made the other man like this in the first place.

Meanwhile, Anders mumbles something in response which is muffled completely by the pillow.

“What was that?” Mitchell asks.

The blond lifts his head a little pitifully.

“I said, don’t say that,” he repeats, “Just don’t.”

“Why not? We’ve said it hundreds, thousands, of times before, has something changed?”

“Me,” Anders says, “I’m what has changed. In this life, I don’t think that I even know how to love. No one has ever loved _me_ , John.”

In the midst of his worry, Mitchell lets the use of his first name slide.

“What about your family?”

Anders makes a disbelieving noise.

“Hardly,” he says, and knowing that the vampire will not let this piece of news slide, he elaborates. “I was never anyone’s favourite. My father left when I was still a child, and then when my eldest brother turned twenty-one, our mother went to become a tree. And then Mike left too, and I had to try and bring up Ty and Axl the best I could, which of course was never good enough and it’s always my fault whenever something goes wrong.”

Mitchell makes a comforting noise, pressing soothing kisses into the line of the god’s shoulders. He lets the tree comment pass, wondering whether Anders is doing his strange voice thing and he misheard what he actually said.

“I’ve always loved you,” he points out softly, “I think you’ve always known that.”

“I thought I was an idiot for it,” the blond admits, “There were moments that I thought that I’d just made you up in my head.”

“But you didn’t,” Mitchell continues to calm him down, “And now I’m here again. We’re going to be alright.”

Anders isn’t convinced.

“We aren’t,” he says, and Mitchell knows exactly what is coming next because he’s had it running through his head for nearly a hundred years. “There’s never a happy ending for us, and now you’re a vampire and immortal and I’m going to get left behind at some point. Fate works against us, Mitchell, you know that.”

Mitchell turns Anders around in his arms so that they’re facing each other before he speaks.

“I’m going to fight every inch of the way for you,” he says sincerely, because despite his earlier doubts, he’s got Anders back in his arms and he plans to tighten his hold and never let go. “For this, for us. I’ve seen far too much death for one man; you can’t even begin to imagine how many people I’ve killed, far more than you’ve ever even met. I’m not afraid of Death anymore, love, anything that’s thrown at us, we can take it.”

“I don’t even know how you manage,” Anders replies, “How you keep going.”

Mitchell smiles at that. He knows the answer, he always has.

“Someone once told me to stay optimistic,” he says, “And that’s what I’ve done.”

“I remember.”

Anders’ reply is so quiet that the vampire wonders that maybe he’s dropping off to sleep, and so he gathers the blond in close and lets him use his chest as a pillow. Despite earlier protests that he didn’t do cuddling, Anders seems to be pretty proficient at it after all.

It was only then that Mitchell hears the blond god speak again, his words cutting straight into the vampire’s heart and making tears spring to his eyes.

“Teach me, John, teach me how to love again.”


End file.
